Presently, she looked up, with a look of ineffable peace and gratitude on her face.

“John,” she said, “send for poor father; it will be new life to him to know that this dreadful weight is off my heart, and that you, knowing what a bad woman I have been, will still call me your wife.  Oh, fetch him to me soon, dear, that he may be happy too.”

Her husband kissed her again, and without another word left the room.  Giving some directions to the neighbour who was still in the shop, he set out at once on his journey.  He drove into Hampton and took the first train to London, where he intended to tell his father-in-law the whole story, and learn what details he could; for he did not wish ever to bring up the subject again, so far as Lucy was concerned.

Now it happened that Mr. Harker was late at the office that night, bending, sad and wrinkled, over his interminable papers; the whole business connected with which was so repugnant to him.  Sigh after sigh escaped his thin lips, as he read the piteous appeals, and knew that he must refuse them; must deal out fresh misery against his will.  It was hard to be the tool of such a merciless fiend; to be the servant of such a master of deceit, villainy and fraud; but so greatly did the father love his child that he would scarce have hesitated in committing a murder had Jasper Vermont set that crime as a price of his forbearance and silence.  He would have purchased his daughter’s safety and happiness with his heart’s blood, if need be.

Unconscious of the release that was so fast approaching, he worked on, setting in order the various accounts which Vermont would require to be laid before him on the following day; and entering in a book concise histories of the debts and difficulties which placed dozens of Jasper’s acquaintances within his power.

A knock at the door startled him, and roused him from his task.  Hastily shutting the ledger before which he was seated, and covering the deeds and documents with a large sheet of paper, the old man rose and opened the door.

It was his son-in-law, John Ashford, and at the sight of his round, kindly face, Harker staggered back, and clutched at the table.

“Lucy!” he gasped out.  “Is she ill?”

“All right!  All right!” said John reassuringly, but in a quieter voice than his usual jovial one.  “Don’t be frightened.  But when she says ’Go and fetch father,’ you see, I come and fetch you directly.”

Mr. Harker was not to be deceived by this attempt at a jest.

“She is ill!” he cried, the perspiration breaking out on his forehead.

John nodded.

“She is better now,” he said.  “But I should like you to come down at once.  We shall catch a train to Hampton Court, and I have a trap waiting for me there.”  Without any further explanation—­for after thinking the matter over, he had determined that Lucy herself should break the news to her father—­he helped the old man, still trembling and shaking, to put on his coat, and to lock up the office; and it was not until they were well on their way, that John told him how he had found his wife a fortnight ago, lying unconscious on the ground.